Around her wrists were bracelets of complementary-coloured glass, and at her neck was a simple golden torc, indicating not only her royal position but that she was of the elite Nasc Niadh of Muman. Around her fiery red hair was a band of silver with three semi-precious stones at the front — two emeralds from the country of the Corco Duibhne and a fiery red stone which Eadulf could not place — these reflected the stones used in the silver brooch that held her cape. This headband served to keep in place a piece of silk that covered her hair but left her face bare. It was called a conniul and indicated her married status, for it was the custom of married women and also of the female religious to cover their heads to show their status. Had not Paul instructed the Corinthians that a woman who did not have her hair covered when she prayed might as well have her hair cut off?
Eadulf had not seen Fidelma dressed in such finery since their official wedding day.
‘Perhaps I should have borrowed warrior’s clothing from Gormán,’ he greeted her with dry humour.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she retorted. ‘We go to stand before the High King elect of the five kingdoms, and the kings and nobles of the five kingdoms gathered in the Great Assembly. In such a formal meeting there is a protocol in dress that is prescribed by law.’
‘I should have known that the Brehons even have rules on dress. But it makes me seem a poor peasant by comparison,’ he replied dolefully, glancing down at himself. He had put on his best clothes, but his simple garments were rough and homespun by contrast with hers.
‘Just remember that you are Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham,’ Fidelma admonished firmly. ‘And my husband.’
He had difficulty remembering it when they entered the hall of the Great Assembly. If there was one thing he had learned about the noble and wealthy classes of the people of Éireann, it was that they loved to dress up in bright colours and jewellery — and both males as well as females would add to it by putting on cosmetics — berry juice to brightenthe lips or darken the eyebrows or enhance the blush of the cheek. He disapproved of it and was pleased to see that Fidelma had used red berry juice on her lips sparingly and added only a thin line to highlight her eyebrows. As he glanced round at the gathering, he realised that his fears were correct. It was not Fidelma who stood out in her choice of clothing but his plain and simple garments that drew the eye.
Around the hall, members of the Fianna stood sentinel and Irél himself commanded a detachment of warriors who formed up behind a row of empty benches at one side of the hall. These had been reserved for the witnesses that Fidelma, through Brehon Barrán, had instructed to attend the hearing; they were now awaiting the summons to enter.
Usually, at the Great Assembly meetings the positions of honour went to the High King and his Chief Brehon. As Cenn Faelad entered with Brehon Barrán and made towards these seats, the dour-faced Congal Cendfota of the Dál Fiatach of Ulaidh sprang up, raising his voice in objection. He shouted to make himself overheard above the hubbub. This caused even greater pandemonium. Finally, Cenn Faelad brought the place to order.
‘We will only proceed when there is quiet among us,’ he bellowed.
The noise died into a muttering and a shuffling of feet.
‘Now, Congal Cendfota, why do you object to Brehon Barrán and I taking our seats to conduct the affairs of this Great Assembly?’ demanded Cenn Faelad.
The burly northern noble still stood in his place.
‘This Great Assembly made a decision at its last meeting — that there were potential conflicts in the Uí Néill about the investigation of the matter of Sechnussach’s assassination. He was an Ui Néill and his assassin was an Uí Néill. The person that gains from his assassination is an Uí Néill. The Chief Brehon, overseeing such an investigation, is an Uí Néill. So it was decided that the Chief Brehon should not conduct the investigation. It was also decided that you, Cenn Faelad, while tánaiste to your brother, Sechnussach, should not be inaugurated until the investigation was concluded.’
Cenn Faelad grimaced impatiently. ‘And this is exactly why we now meet, Congal Cendfota! As this Great Assembly instructed, Fidelma of Cashel — an Eóghanacht — came to investigate and is about to make her report. What is your objection?’
Congal Cendfota waited until the muttering subsided again. He pointedto the chairs of office in which Cenn Faelad and Brehon Barrán were about to be seated.
‘Until that report and its conclusions are confirmed by this Assembly, I contend that neither you nor Brehon Barrán can have a say in conducting this meeting. It would be unseemly and implies a foregone conclusion.’
There were many who voiced their agreement with this argument and, indeed, Fidelma looked across at Eadulf and nodded approvingly.
‘It seems a logical point of procedure,’ she whispered, ‘although slightly pedantic.’
Cenn Faelad held a whispered exchange with Barrán.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We will sit in the Great Assembly only as observers. But who will conduct the proceedings?’
‘Fianamail of Laigin,’ proposed one of the Laigin churchmen.
This immediately brought protest from one of the Ulaidh nobles.
‘If Fianamail of Laigin presides over this Great Assembly on behalf of the High King, then it would be tantamount to approving Laigin as next in line to the High Kingship!’
‘Then I propose Diarmait, chieftain of Uisnech!’ cried another voice.
‘He is just another Uí Néill,’ called a chieftain from Connacht.
Again, a hubbub broke out.
Then Ségéne of Ard Macha rose and walked across the chamber to where Ségdae of Imleach was seated. Ségdae rose to greet him and both men held a hurried conversation. They turned to face the Great Assembly.
‘My brother in Christ and I have a proposal,’ Abbot Ségéne announced, silencing the noise of speculation. ‘The matter of delivering the report should be a relatively simple affair. We believe that the steward and spiritual adviser to this Great Assembly, Abbot Colmán, should control the proceedings, acting with the advice of Sedna, the deputy Chief Brehon. Neither is an Uí Néill and both have the authority of their office. Let anyone who has any objection to this, state that objection.’
There was a silence and then a murmuring of approval arose.
Cenn Faelad, with some relief, said: ‘Then it seems we are agreed. We will sit here as observers. Come forward, Colmán, come forward, Sedna, so that we may proceed.’
Abbot Colmán and Brehon Sedna came forward to take their seats and an expectant hush fell on the assembly.
Abbot Colmán glanced at his companion and then turned to face the Great Assembly.
‘There is little need to preamble these proceedings. For reasons we are all aware of, the Great Assembly decided that the matter of the assassination of our High King, Sechnussach, by Dubh Duin, chieftain of the Cinél Cairpre, should be investigated by an unbiased dálaigh — Fidelma of the Eóghanacht, Fidelma of Cashel. She was asked to investigate the motives and discover whether anyone other than Dubh Duin was involved in this matter.’ He paused and looked to where Fidelma was seated. ‘Fidelma of Cashel, are you prepared to present the results of such an investigation?’
Fidelma rose and cleared her throat. ‘I am. In corroboration of my report, I have called on certain witnesses to stand ready to confirm or deny my contentions. I would ask the leniency of this Great Assembly to bring them into this hall to sit among us so that they respond to the arguments that I shall place before you.’
Abbot Colmán turned to Brehon Sedna and they held a hurried and whispered exchange. It was Brehon Sedna who spoke next.